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It was sitting in Indy's garage, under the gloomy rainy sky, and refused to start. The stands are empty. The sluices flowed through the pit, and every roof gutter overflowed ridiculously, like a miniature Niagara.
The starter rotates. Wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow
One of the mechanics injured his knee. The other goes deep into the engine compartment. A bystander came up.
A pile of used Bosch spark plugs are stacked on the ground next to the car. Tiny electrodes and insulators shine with fuel.
A sigh. The mechanic did not look up.
The rain continues. Standing at the Porsche 962C 003 next to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, my helmet bag is on the table and I can’t see the rain tires. I can’t deal with my heartbeat too much. Except for one thought, it seems to freeze everything: the old one?
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The thing is this: 962 is old. If you are a human, you are old enough to have children, have sparse hair, and need multiple mortgages. If you are over 25 years old, this may be shocking. 962's career basically ended in the early 90s, but 10 years ago, it was ubiquitous in sports car racing. Porsche's 956 and 962 are almost identical predecessors, winning Le Mans for the first time in 1982. You forget that it is now an old car, because since the first 956 was built, the endurance car looked like this, using air in much the same way.
The '85 962 seen here is one of the factory Le Mans race cars sponsored by Rothmans. In 1985, it won pole position with Derek Bell and Hans-Joachim Stuck in La Sarthe, and a year later with the same person ( Together with Al Holbert (Al Holbert) won the championship, and in 1988 boarded the last podium-the first place at Suzuka Station. The 176 956s and 962s were built from 1982 to 1991; together, these two models won 7 Le Mans titles and achieved 232 victories in 12 years.
Derek Bell is 73 years old. He has been driving the 956 and 962 professionally for ten years, but when we talked last fall, he only remembered a few times when the car burst under him. "The answer I always get is,'Mr. Bell, every game we do must be a development of somezink, let us participate in it.'"
This brings us to the 887-horsepower, $848,000 carbon fiber Porsche 918 Spyder hybrid. We brought 918 to Indy for several reasons. First of all, Porsche is about to phase out its 918; the company provided us with the last test car for some dramatic things. Secondly, a friend of the magazine called recently and asked us if we wanted to test Rothmans 962 for no reason. (This kind of thing really happened. This is still one of the miracles of the auto magazine industry. God bless us if it stops.) Third, among all the tracks near the home of 962 Ohio, the only track that meets the schedule is The road track at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. A place where drama can be added to bichon frise.
Sometimes the stars just line up in a row.
In 956-962, you have the first truly modern Porsche prototype. This downforce giant is so fast and durable that the factory team won almost everything they got in. The 918 looks like what Ridley Scott said of the 962. It is one of the only $3 million hybrid supercars currently available. When production ends later this year, it will only appear in the 918 sample. middle. We want to know whether the state of German supercar art can pull the numbers into the range of family legends. But we also want to know how this legend will feel in the hands of mortals 30 years later.
About that family: Our test 918 is a blue development car with a time of 5000 miles, named Meredith. I learned this when I looked under the rear wing and saw the name on a white sticker similar to Comic Sans. Facts have proved that Porsche occasionally names its research and development cars; the 918 team is all girls. This may be something about the Stuttgart engineers, but if I knew it, I would be cursed.
Stan Ross sold a Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa to buy his 962. "The 250 TR is very bad to drive," he said, watching the rain outside the garage. "Financially, it's not the smartest move. But it's more interesting."
The 74-year-old Stan has an interesting definition of bad, but I have never driven a 250 TR. He lives in Ohio. "I told him not to sell TR," his 41-year-old son Malcolm said with a smile. "I think I have convinced him to persevere."
Stan is a retired lawyer. He smiled happily. Most stories start with "interesting stories." They are all really interesting, even the one he talked about cancer. Both Malcolm and Stan brought Malcolm's two children to Indy to watch the 918 and 962 running. I am going to drive these two cars today, but I have never driven a powerful machine like the 962. According to Stan's perfectly reasonable wish, if it doesn't stop raining, I won't drive it. No rain tires, only Goodyear slick. The rain kept beating, as if it knew how much I hated it.
Because magazine editors are not professional racers, we often hire professionals to collect data on large dogs. To this end, we gathered the 2011 IndyCar Rookie of the Year and Indianapolis native James Hinchcliffe. Hinchcliffe happened to show up at 9:00 on the call, commented that it was raining, and then sat down and waited like the rest of us. He is very attractive, a well-mannered Canadian, 28 years old, with a big smile on his face. He told me that he had learned to drive his father's Bugeye cane, and he looked at the car with friendly and optimistic eyes, as if it were an old relative he had not yet met. I quickly decided that I liked him because, unlike the shoes of many professionals, he is not a pretentious, condescending tool.
The morning passed quietly. There was nothing to do before the track dried up, and I got caught up in discussions with Stan. After the 962 was owned by Australian driver Vern Schuppan, he bought the 962 in 1994. The last practice was 12 years ago, when a Formula Atlantic driver lost his brakes in Moroso, hit Stan, and got stuck on the left side of the car. Its current administrator, Stenyets, told me that the car was rebuilt by an expert. This is just a reminder that some things are too precious to be destroyed, but simplified into a complete set of Kabroy parts.
Treated as one piece, these parts look very durable. The huge trunk lid of the 962 forms most of the rear of the car, covering the steel pipe and engine, and the crankcase is located at the height of the tibia. When the cover was removed to replace the plug, the action seemed a bit wrong, as if you were watching a huge hand pulling the landing strip off the Nimitz aircraft carrier. As far as surface treatment is concerned, everything else seems to be almost mass-produced. (In the 1980s, a mechanic friend was allowed to inspect the 956 and Lancia LC2, one of Porsche’s competitors. Lancia is perfect, he said, every piece is beautiful, and Porsche seems to be full of the masses. For car parts, it seems that the same production engineer, or even the same purchaser, was told to make a golf, but, oh, make it faster.)
Simplicity is the essence of 962. Its mechanical drill bits have undergone endless testing to ensure reliability-the main concern of endurance racers-but for prototype cars that exceed 200 miles per hour, the car is easy to maintain. When you close the body, all you see is the space, the outside is just some Kevlar scaffolding in the air. The 2.6-liter twin-turbocharged and inter-cooled four-valve six-cylinder engine produces 625 horsepower at 7735 rpm. It is related to the IndyCar engine aborted by Porsche in the early 1980s, which itself is a branch of the company's 935 engine. In the carbon fiber era, the aluminum monocoque (the Porsche’s first) may not look impressive, but the neat touch abounds: progressive titanium springs that reduce mass, or dual calipers for each front wheel This helps to minimize the number of pit stops at Le Mans over 24 hours. (The non-Le Mans 962 uses a lighter single caliper setting.)
Then there is the atmosphere. Any geek can tell you the proportions of the classic Porsche Sport racing car of the 918 Ape; a little 906, a little 550, a little 917. The 962 has roughly the same footprint and shape as the 918, although older cars look more flexible. Micro cockpit, wrap-around windshield-you will find yourself wondering how much of the 918 is needed for the company's famous dedication to tradition, and how much is just to make a car that makes customers feel like they are going to Le Mans .
When the mechanic finally got the 962 up and running, it sounded like a caterpillar with bad habits: valve bumps and mechanical hissing, all because the turbocharger silences the exhaust to low noise. The engine warms up and then shuts down. Soon after, the rain decreased. Hinchcliffe was hurriedly installed in the 918 for familiarization laps. The Porsche engineering representative asked him to learn about various drivetrain modes in two minutes; Hinchcliffe hitchhiked to pick up one of Malcolm's children, and then returned.
"That thing is out of control," he said with a smile. "Super annoying. On a slippery track, without running out, 150 miles per hour in a straight line. That's all I want an 8-year-old kid in the car to do." He returned to the timing lap.
Because Indy is basically a flat-bottomed bowl, every sound on the 2.4-mile internal highway route echoes with an unpredictable delay. The 918 ejected onto the front straight, tearing apart from the beginning/end, and rippling from the hood with strong air pressure and heat waves. Its flat crank, 9,150 rpm, 4.6-liter V8 is the product of the Porsche RS Spyder competition program, far exceeding the chirp and grunt of the 962. It also brought an additional component for the instant shutdown of the hybrid engine-when Hinchcliffe pulled back into the paddock and operated only with the car's electric motor, the bellows was cut at the knee.
The sun briefly penetrated the clouds. The camera crew was shaking, and my arm got goose bumps. Yates introduced Hinchcliffe to 962. This behavior was just a quote of the maximum boost (1.1 bar); pay attention to the synchronizer, dogleg five-speed; and told him not to approach the roadside, because the nose of the car would explode and cause a large amount of money Money evaporates from various wallets.
"Remember," Yates said, "she is older than you and spends more."
Hinchcliffe giggled a few times under his helmet. He pulled onto the track, and the mechanic pushed the wings to ease the tension on the clutch. One minute later, the car returned to view and rushed violently towards Indy's ramp, like an A-10 suddenly leaving the formation to ventilate several tanks. A few laps later, when Hinchcliffe pitted, he was sweating profusely.
"This car is fun. But, work. The mid-angle speed feels comparable to the [current] IndyCar. Obviously, you can brake with that car later, but... it's fun."
Later that day, road test editor Robin Warner will look at the data and tell us that Hinchcliffe saw 170 mph before braking into the relatively tight turn 1. The clouds re-formed overhead. The track is now dry.
Yates waved at me casually. "be prepared."
I walked to my gear bag. My toes twitched when I walked.
Wearing a helmet and Nomex strolling to a purpose-built race car at the 105-year-old Indianapolis Motor Speedway is probably the most dishonest thing a professional writer can do. Looking directly at Indy's stand from the front can make people shudder. This is the echo of a place that has been taking lives since the sinking of the Titanic. What the ancient temples of speed have in common is that they all make you feel like a tourist.
"Anyone can sit on 962, start it, and drive it away."
Like most Porsche prototypes, the 962 starts with the key-in this case, a black deal may come from the 924 or 928. The engine made a low rumble, almost inaudible through my worn earplugs. You can touch the other side of the cockpit with your outstretched arm, so I can’t suppress the chuckle that comes with it. Everything seems disturbingly simple, as if more things are needed to control the tools you use to prevent it from cutting off your legs. That iconic windshield banner stared down at my knees, reverse: EHCSROP.
"Anyone can sit on the 962, start it, and drive it away," Derek Bell told me. So I am willing. The clutch is very light and relatively predictable. I walked out of the pit easily, and the car whizzed past the straight in a tall gear.
"...But those last few seconds," Bell continued, "it's too difficult."
If there are skills to fight anxiety, I never know. I was suddenly paralyzed tentatively. This car feels as wide as a bus. The steering is light, surprisingly quiet, and very slow—maybe 230 mph—and the feedback only accelerates when locked. Everything else is fighting back. If you like it, the shifter is bulky and clumsy. The brake pads heat up slowly and cool down too fast. The engine's lag and long transmission are painful. Everything happens in slow motion.
Because I am worried. Because I am a little disturbed and scared about the value of this car, its history, the painting, and this place, oh my goodness, that place. Hands are shaking. I forgot to downshift for the slower corner. and then. ..
The historical perspective may be too large to proceed at a particular moment. A lap passed, slowly and calmly. I saw the apex at the corner. It looks like any other vertex containment. I looked down at my belt and the leather-lined gloves I had used on countless other cars. I realized that I must go out as soon as possible and may never come back again. I thought, crazy. Pretend it is the strangest mid-engine Miata in the world. 918 with tent pants. No matter what the price is.
In the next few laps, I stopped thinking too much, somehow deceiving myself into believing that I was tied to anything else. I have re-understood what every Porsche geek will tell you: 962 is unbelievable.
When you press it, the car becomes brighter, but paradoxically, it also becomes more work. You go from flicking the steering wheel with your wrist to dialing in degrees with your shoulder. The shift gate seemed to narrow, the synchronizer almost sucked the joystick into place, and the engine awakened. The 10,000 rpm tachometer and 2.0 bar booster gauge are located behind the wheel; Yates told me that the natural red line of this car is 8000 rpm, but I was asked to change gears at around 7500 rpm, where the engine is medium-speed and very flexible. Still trying to drill a hole in the horizon. On the cams and boosters, the tachometer needle will increase sharply, the wastegate will chirp, you change gears, and then violently repeat. There is huge power, but the car is so stable and comfortable that it only takes a few laps to focus on the tires instead of the engine.
I used to drive the 935 and 934, which are Porsche's early 911-based turbocharged racing cars. Those things are happy Frankenstein, all the violence and cross talk. Here, it’s just a big grip (1.69 grams in data), and the drama when driving at 160 mph is so small that a voice in your head says, don’t brake, your ass, you almost Immobile. In a straight line, the chassis feels like a Camry in a parking lot.
Stans Ross once shared his car with American Porsche legend Bob Akin; he told me that Akin agreed with him that the 962 is easy to learn, to some extent. The grip through the fastest deceleration bends is enough for me to retrain my hands to fly the car in correctly-a video from the Hinchcliffe circle will later show that I am still not fast enough to believe that the car will hold on. Similarly, Hinchcliffe pointed out that the 962 was a little understeer when entering the ramp. Once, I saw that the previous sweeper was fast enough. The nose jacked, and the steering lost a touch of feeling, and the car swept the track in an instant until the front tires returned to their original shape. It suddenly occurred to me (I think it is) that air loss understeer is a benign feature-this is a benign moment-but the inevitable result is that the opposite occurs at 200 mph on the slippery Mulsanne straight. locking. ..
Part of me wants to chase that feeling; most of me don't.
After driving a car for a few weeks, I consulted with interviews with various men who paid to participate in these races. Each echoes an idea: Tootle runs at 95% of the capacity of 962. It is your good partner-the high waterline of the racing car. This is one of the reasons why this model was so effective for private cars at the time. But the adventure is higher, this is the realm of adults. Mistakes mean things go wrong.
This brings us back to 918 again. We have discussed this car before and how it is driven, so the goal here is just a data reference. But I took our test Spyder Meredith out and ran a few laps to register.
Next to 962, its sound is louder and looser, and it is a dramatic bomb in design.
In other words, 60 mph appears in 2.5 seconds. The grip of the non-slip mat is 1.07 grams. The exhaust pipe of the soup tank protrudes from the top of the car, shouting the noise of 908-917-RS Spyder into space.
After a lap, Hinchcliffe pointed out that the all-wheel drive 918 is a completely different car. It turns off stability control, drives more sideways with the throttle, and tries to stay behind you. Of course, he is right. Next to 962, its sound is louder and looser, and it is a dramatic bomb in design. It feels like a caricature of a racing car. Preference is a matter of taste. Driving fast is also more tiring, because driving a fast street car usually makes people tired, and the purpose of 962 is to allow those who do not wander around the largest asphalt road in France to drive for 24 hours.
I won't tell you what the two cars have in common, or some clichés, such as "progress has brought this pair of sharp cars closer than we thought." (Be careful, Smith...-Ed.) These things may be true, but anyone might have guessed it. On the contrary, when I drove away from Indy, I found myself obsessed with the contradictions of modern Porsche's personality—a slave-like love of tradition coupled with a persistent pursuit of new things. This mentality has created the brilliant and evolving 911, but you have to doubt whether it has unlimited scalability.
When the Porsche brand was very young in the 1950s and 1960s, it did great, truly new things, without the momentum of the old jobs. This allows it to do more great things and evoke past achievements instead of relying on them, which is part of the reason why people like Porsches. 918 Despite all the progress made, it still slightly changed the scale. Countless experts have asked why this car is not lighter, more practical, or more surprisingly styled (read: not like Porsche’s last supercar, the Carrera GT), or why its technology does not look as futuristic as the 959 Feeling in the eighties. Or today's P1 and LaFerrari.
The answer will not appear immediately, but you cannot deny the validity of these questions. Or, beside Porsche's other breakthrough home runs, the 918 seems to be just a solid, quiet trio of innovations. 962 is a logical step for a company to make a breakthrough by adhering to its founding principles. As a kind of feedback and engineering exercise-arguably the main purpose of the top supercar-the 918 is amazing, but you can't shake the idea that it will live in the shadow of the Pantheon forever.
None of this is to knock it. After all, we are talking about one of the best cars in the world. But one of the fascinating things about the automotive industry is how the past has influenced modern choices. The thread between 962 and 918 is obvious; takeaway is less important, at least for now.
But we live in a world where Porsche Engineering still believes that fast cars should not be tame for fools. Raise the wine glass.